


Wingtips and Whatsits

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Competent Bertram Wooster, Flustered!Jeeves, M/M, tannedandfit!Jeeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie felt swimmy about the pins from the first moment he saw Jeeves.  Morning head or manly attraction?</p><p>For the fan_flashworks challenge "Choices"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wingtips and Whatsits

Bertram Wilberforce, the last Wooster, was not a fool, even if the opinions of the metrop held otherwise. A man about town sometimes had to show his glass darkly to tamp daily demands under the bushel of pickled peppers. It was useful to let Jeeves think him far more feckless (if that was the word he wanted) and whatsit than he was, in fact. After all, some chaps needed to feel useful, and Jeeves was clearly one of those eager birds. The fellow had sprung into action like the better type of spring action thingamabob, but quieter, with better knowledge of racing, and much more strapping.

Bertie thought the swimmy feeling about the pins the first time he saw Jeeves was the product of a morning head. The supper on the previous evening had oozed with the brightest sort of cheerfulness (and Bollinger) and the following morning had been rather fraught with scaliness. But the swimmy f. had persisted and the p.s. seemed to be priming themselves for the 100-yard butterfly whenever the fellow shimmered into view. Even then, Bertie, being of a cheerful disposish, and disinclined to close examinations of the Scotland Yard variety, thought that it was simple, artless gratitude for Jeeves showing him why Lady Caligula was an apt and germane description of Florence on her firmer days. It could not possibly be that the stirring in the tweeds was the symptom of a manly attraction, or so he admonished himself.

After all, most chaps outgrew that sort of thing with the other stripling pleasures of Eton, like purloined biscuits and afternoon sardines. Even the artistic types who were highly committed to the bohemian lifestyle did not generally include a valet in a personal or professional capacity.

Jeeves, being the product of a private education, was less schooled in these matters than Bertie. At first he could not understand what made him feel so hurt and angry--as he would say 'discomfited' and 'pained'--whenever Bertie flirted with a young lady. It was only after the bicycle incident that Jeeves comprehended his own individual psychology, and how hopeless his situation had become.

So, Jeeves and Wooster ankled through the motions, making after the fairer sex, or running from them, as the sitch decreed, all the while trying very hard not to feel the feelings that were f. or whatnot.

And then the day came when there was another choice to be made. Jeeves had been on his holiday when Dawn rose, rosy fingered in the east, casting her glow on the fitfully dozing Wooster. Nothing was ever quite right without Jeeves about the home, and Bertie had begun to pine. As evening drew near, Bertie found himself in the bath, and Jeeves shimmered in, looking tanned and fit after a week at shrimping, catching the young master unawares. There was nothing to hide the rising proof of the m. a.

The Jeevesian brow corrugated itself in perplexity and consternation, then the chiseled jaw slackened slightly at the glowing damask cheek. “I apologize for intruding, sir,” he said and made to dissolve. And he tried, but a stray wing tip of the variety that Bertie sported during the J. holidays tangled itself in the valet’s feet and the man lurched forward, catching his knee on the side of the tub.

The y.m. sprang from the bath like a dripping jack-in-the box, and clasped his man in two slender but wiry arms before the already crooked Jeevesian nose received any further bumps. The valet grasped the bare waist like a lifeline. “I apologize, sir,” he began, then fell silent as their eyes met.

Some moments draw themselves out like honey dripping into a cup of Darjeeling from the tip of a silver spoon. This m. made those m.s look fleeting. Bertie thought he could see to the bottom of his man’s soul. And the whole way down belonged to him. Jeeves, quite unusually for him, thought nothing at all.

“Whatsit,” Bertie said, and Jeeves thought that nothing more profoundly true had ever been uttered.

“Indeed, sir,” said Jeeves breathlessly. His fingers tightened on the smooth wet skin. “Will that be all?”

“If you’re able to avoid the splendid footwear,” Bertie said. The last of the Woosters loosened his hold on his man, and a narrow foot lost purchase on the tub. Jeeves wrapped his free arm about his master, who had never been happier to lack the balance of a mountain goat hopping from alp to alp. Something bulging in the Jeevesian trouser caught the y.m’s attention.

“I say,” said Bertie.

“My apologies, sir,” said Jeeves. “I did not mean to presume.”

“By no means,” said Bertie. “You’ve prevented the grey matter, such as it is, from being splattered about the place.”

“Very good, sir,” Jeeves gathered the wingtips and other stray paraphernalia and oozed off and Bertie trickled back into his bath. As was generally the case in the flat at Berkeley Mansions, the cooler head prevailed. There was a decision to be made. Eventually, Bertie levered himself up and wrapped himself in the toweling robe. He biffed into the bedchamber to find it spotless, correct evening dress laid out. The sound of ice in a distant cocktail shaker broke into his thoughts. Bertie oozed into for his dressing gown and slippers and beetled out to the sitting room eager for a sip of a reviving beverage.

Jeeves materialized with the refreshing cocktail. “Sir?” he asked. “Are you unwell?”

“No, Jeeves, not at all,” said the l. of the W.s. “I merely heard the cocktail shaker. I suppose you want to hie forth to the Junior Ganymedes to learn all the latest news?”

“It is kind of you to think of it, sir,” said Jeeves.

“Don’t worry overmuch about the time,” Bertie said. “Biffy is having a bit of a supper this evening.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jeeves.

Bertie staggered home just before Dawn hied forth with the glowing digits again. He fumbled the doorknob, and Jeeves, still bedecked in proper evening dress, appeared and stowed the young master within bounds before Bertie knew what had happened.

“Good morning, sir. I’ve laid out our coral pajamas,” Jeeves said, but he meant something quite different.

“Whatsit,” said Bertie. “That is, whatnot, and thingummy, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir,” said Jeeves, waiting for Bertie to slosh to the bedchamber and sleep off the evening and their feelings.

“Warmer than ordinary whatsit, I mean, Jeeves, what?” said Bertie. “The regard, that is, Jeeves.”

“Which regard, sir?” Jeeves asked.

“For you,” Bertie said. Jeeves froze. Another of those lingering moments lingered. Bertie swayed gently, and Jeeves caught him by the waist before the pins gave way and he crumpled to the floor.

Jeeves, being marginally more sober than the y.m., had a choice to make. “Very good, sir,” he said, steering Bertie to his bedroom. “Shall I refuse visitors until after luncheon?”

Bertie dug in his heels. “Is that all you have to say in the face of my declaration?” is what he meant to say. What came out was more of a gargle. Jeeves eased the willowy form across the threshold of the master bedchamber and dissolved like a mist.

When Bertie woke up, his head felt like someone had inserted a watermelon through his left ear. Jeeves flickered in at the sound of the bell, looking much the same as usual, and bearing the dark drink against hangovers. Against his usual habit, he handed Bertie the glass, allowing their fingers to brush together.

Bertie blushed. “Ah, I hope I didn’t say anything out of turn this morning.”

“Of course not, sir,” said Jeeves, allowing his mouth to turn up at one corner. “But if I may be so bold, a gentleman does have to choose carefully when speaking of some matters.”

“And so I did, Jeeves,” said Bertie, catching the tray Jeeves dropped. “But do take your own time.”

It would be some weeks before they kissed. And some weeks more before they did anything else, but in that instant, their choice was made.


End file.
